


so, this is love

by pollutedrain



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Angst, Cinderella Elements, Getting Together, Love at First Sight, M/M, Mutual Pining, Romance, Slow Burn, both of them are idiots, love is a struggle, rating will go up in future chapters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-22
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-14 06:35:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28916220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pollutedrain/pseuds/pollutedrain
Summary: Youngho, Doyoung thinks to himself. It definitely sounds like a princely enough name, and he finds himself wondering if Youngho was somewhere here among the crowds in the palace tonight, if he’d passed by Doyoung and he’d had no idea.A shame really. He’d have quite liked to have met a prince, even just for the experience.(Alternatively: Doyoung doesn't know what to expect when he finds himself at a royal ball. Certainly, love wouldn't be the first thing that came to mind, but fate has a funny way of working out).
Relationships: Kim Dongyoung | Doyoung/Suh Youngho | Johnny
Comments: 10
Kudos: 80





	so, this is love

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Cottonness](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cottonness/gifts).



> first of all: HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY BELOVED KATE ❤ i've been teasing you with snippets of doierella for months now, and i hope you enjoy him now he's finally here! i hope he lives up to your excitement.
> 
> secondly: in true me fashion, this was meant to be a one-shot, but has obviously spiralled into something much more than that. as such, i'm excited to be writing my first chaptered fic (and if this first chapter being 8.5k is anything to go by, it'll be a big one). as noted in the tags, the rating will eventually go up as the fic progresses, and more characters will probably be added. 
> 
> lastly, thank you to the lovely pei for helping me with the last bit of this chapter (and a lot of the storyline that's to come), i would probably still be staring at the wall praying for gdoc to write it itself if not for you.
> 
> please enjoy! ❤
> 
> title: [so, this is love - cinderella soundtrack](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lSsx0PC5yrk)

“A _ball_?”

Taeyong looks like he’s clearly fighting back the urge to laugh at whatever expression Doyoung is pulling right now but, credit to his best friend, he manages to keep a straight face. Yuta, on the other hand, has never been as subtle as his boyfriend, and snorts so loudly it draws the attention of the people sitting at the tables surrounding theirs. 

“Yes Doyoung, a _ball_ , that’s exactly what Taeyong said. Specifically the king’s ball, the fanciest a ball can be.”

Frustrated, Doyoung flops back against the leather of the booth they’re tucked away in. 

It’s Thursday night, student night at their favourite bar, and Doyoung had managed to wrangle his way out of work early to waste time with his best friends. Except now, he was beginning to regret it - staying home and studying would probably have been the better option. 

“First of all, who even throws _balls_ these days?” He complains. “Just call it a party, that’s basically what it is. Second: why would I _want_ to go to a party and be surrounded by arrogant rich people? No less on my only day off next week?” 

“It’s called a ball because it’s a formal event, and there’ll be dancing,” Yuta informs him. “Calling it a party would be verging on insulting, really.”

“And to answer your second question: because you need to _live_ a little.” Taeyong stresses. 

“I live enough, thank you very much.”

Taeyong rolls his eyes, pointing the straw from his cocktail at the younger man threateningly. 

“Your life literally revolves around classes and work, and the rare occasion we’re able to drag you out somewhere. You work so hard literally all the time, you deserve to have a little fun every now and then, and we’d love to have fun with you.”

Doyoung squints at him, picking at a loose thread on his shirt sleeve. He could really use a new one, he doesn’t want to think about how old this one is, but his money is a little short this month. His laptop had broken days before an important essay was due, meaning he had to drain the majority of his savings to cover the cost of repairs. He’d be lucky to make rent next month, he thinks to himself with a sigh.

“Why take me as your plus one, anyway? What about Yuta?”

“I have my own invitation,” Yuta replies, draining the last of his beer. “Both sets of our parents were invited, and both passed the invites onto us. I’ll ask Taeil if he wants to come, though he’ll most likely pass on it.”

“That doesn’t explain why you’re both so insistent on me coming.” 

Doyoung knows he’s just being annoyingly stubborn now, but it’s worth it when he sees how Taeyong looks like he would love to strangle him if they weren’t in public at this very moment. 

“Jaehyun and Sicheng are both busy, which leaves me with the option of asking either you or Jungwoo, and I don’t even want to _think_ about taking Jungwoo to a ball. You, on the other hand, will fit in much better with everyone else there and, as I _keep_ on stressing, you need a night off.”

Doyoung falls silent for a moment, staring at one of the stains immortalised in the wood of their table. 

He knows that his friends mean well, and they’re right - it’s rare that he lets himself have a night off just to unwind and have fun, normally too concerned with working or maintaining his grades to keep his scholarship afloat. The little free time he does manage to indulge in is mostly spent sleeping. 

But at the same time, the pair of them are never quite able to understand his situation. 

While his own family had never been exactly _poor_ , they’d always been just that little bit short of ever being truly comfortable. Doyoung hadn’t really noticed growing up - both he and his older brother had been showered with enough love that worn out shoes and dinners that used up literally everything left in the fridge didn’t mean much. But now, now he was older and essentially on his own at university, it had become more apparent that his parents weren’t well-off in the slightest. 

In contrast, both Taeyong and Yuta came from wealthy, powerful families, with more than enough money and resources to ensure the pair of them would be able to always live comfortably, no matter what they did. Doyoung tried not to dwell on it too much, even as he worked his third 3am finish in a row at their campus’ main coffee shop, eyes heavy as he tried to squeeze in extra studying time wherever he could.

His friends had always treated him with pure adoration, ever since they’d all met. It wasn’t their fault that Doyoung didn’t come from the same background as them. However, the idea of mixing with people from the same upper class had his stomach twisting with anxiety. There was no guarantee that they wouldn’t look down on him or treat him poorly - in fact, it was highly probable that they would. Doyoung wouldn’t want to put himself through it, he didn’t deserve the additional stress. 

“What would I even wear?” He eventually asks quietly. 

The only formal clothing he owns is a suit his parents had bought him for his college interviews, and even that’s beginning to look a little obviously worn now. He’d stick out like a sore thumb. 

Taeyong leans over to squeeze his hand, voice soft when he replies. 

“Don’t worry, we’ll help you out with everything. All you need to do is show up at our apartment on the day.” 

Doyoung hesitates, knowing he’s dangerously close to giving in. The others clearly see it too, as Yuta is quick to grab his free hand.

“If you hate it, we’ll leave,” The older man soothes him. “And we’ll buy you take-out at the end of the night, no matter what.”

 _Okay_ , Doyoung thinks to himself. _That’s definitely the most tempting offer on the table_.

“Hmm…” Doyoung hums, tilting his head as he considers.

Free food is always nice, he muses, and he knows when Yuta says take-out he means the indescribably good (and expensive) sushi place that’s near the couple’s apartment. They’d probably let him stay over too, in their ridiculously plush spare bedroom that made Doyoung’s single bed in his own apartment feel like a slab of concrete. Maybe they’d even buy him breakfast the next morning as well.

He sighs again - when did he become so easily bribed?

“What if people are rude to me? You know I’m not exactly from the higher echelons like you both are.”

“Then they’ll regret it.” Yuta replies simply, his tone leaving no room for any doubt in Doyoung’s mind. 

_Fair enough._

“I guess I’ll go.” He finally replies, still a little reluctant. 

His friends glance at each other, momentarily surprised that he’d already given in, before the pair look back at him with matching grins. 

“You’ll have fun, we promise.” Taeyong insists, leaning over to kiss him on the cheek. 

“I’d better, or you’ll never hear the end of it.”

“Even if you do, we’ll still never hear the end of it.” Yuta deadpans, laughing as he avoids the jab that Doyoung aims at his neck. 

“Don’t make me regret saying yes already!” Doyoung practically whines. 

“You won’t regret it. Now,” The older man begins, standing up and holding his hands out for the pair still seated at the table. “Let’s go do shots to celebrate. My treat.”

\---

“I look ridiculous.” Doyoung hisses, half at his friends and half at his own reflection, which stares grumpily back at him. 

“You’re _acting_ ridiculous,” Taeyong replies without sparing him a glance, busy helping Yuta with his tie. “You look perfectly fine, and you know it.”

It was finally the day of the ball, and Taeyong had called Doyoung early that morning, insisting he arrive at his and Yuta’s apartment at least four hours before they were due to leave for the evening. Doyoung had complained about it, but had shown up promptly as always, silently cursing whatever part of his brain made it so he could never be late even if he tried. Thankfully, the hours had ticked by fast, full of them getting each other ready, interspersed with a couple of snack breaks at Taeyong’s insistence. 

Doyoung grumbles to himself now, turning back to continue scrutinising his reflection. Much to his annoyance, Taeyong is right, he does look fine. In fact, he looks better than fine, he looks _handsome_. 

His friend had sourced an entire outfit for him: from where, Doyoung has zero idea, as the entire ensemble fits him like a glove. His two-piece suit is a lighter shade of navy blue which, coupled with the pristine white shirt he wears underneath his jacket, complements his form so perfectly he’s almost convinced he was born to wear it. 

He finds himself absent-mindedly stroking the material of his jacket on more than one occasion. He’s not too well-versed in what finer clothes tend to be made of, but everything feels silky-soft beneath his fingertips, so it was no doubt expensive. A borrowed rolex gleams from his left wrist, a few rings Yuta had tossed at him adorning the fingers of his right hand. On his feet he wears a brand new pair of chelsea boots, the leather so shiny it reflects the bright lights of Taeyong’s walk in closet. 

Yuta had also insisted on taking care of the rest of his appearance for him. Doyoung’s jet black hair was now slicked back from his forehead, a few strands left to loosely hang over his left eye, giving him a much more mature look than he was used to seeing on himself. Yuta had also brought out his makeup bag, dabbing a thin layer of concealer and powder onto Doyoung’s face, followed by the tiniest bit of lip stain that he blended into Doyoung’s lips. Doyoung’s eyebrows were then filled in, accompanied by just the right amount of eyeliner and eyeshadow to make his eyes stand out. 

Finally satisfied, Yuta replaces the cap on his eyeliner with a flourish, expression smug as he surveys his efforts. 

“There. Now you wouldn’t look out of place as the rich kid on some teen drama.” The older man grins at him.

Doyoung rolls his eyes, trying to bite back the amused smile that tries to take over his face, not wanting to give his friend the satisfaction of knowing he made him laugh. He’s thankfully distracted by Taeyong coming to join them, having finished styling his own hair.

“You look so good Doyoung!” His friend beams, gently taking him by the shoulders and turning him so he can inspect him properly. “Honestly, the definition of gorgeous.”

Doyoung ducks his head shyly, not used to so much praise. 

“Thanks guys,” He mumbles, lifting his head to take in the details of both of the other men’s outfits. “You both look amazing as well.”

His friends always look perfect no matter what they wear, but tonight they’re in a whole different league. 

Taeyong looks modelesque in a three-piece suit, jet black with a pure white trim to match his newly bleached white hair. Yuta wears a suit of the same cut, except his is coloured white with a black trim, the direct opposite of Taeyong so they make a matching pair when they stand next to each other. Doyoung is momentarily awed by how perfect they look together, before he frowns slightly. 

“You couldn’t have let me in on the theme?”

“We wanted you to stand out.” Yuta grins at him. 

“Besides,” Taeyong reaches out to squeeze Doyoung’s shoulder. “Blue is much more your colour, anyway.”

Doyoung bites his lip in reply, hoping this means he won’t be the centre of attention. He knows he’s in no position to complain, anyway, he’d have been showing up to wherever this ball is in his worn polyester suit and loafers if it weren’t for his friends. But, still, he can’t help but hope they’ll dazzle everyone so much that he’s able to easily fade into the background. 

Yuta declares that he’ll be the one to drive them there, ignoring Taeyong’s insistence that he could easily ask his parents to send over a driver to escort them. 

“Yong, seriously, it’s fine,” Yuta waves off his boyfriend’s concerns. “I have to be up early tomorrow so I won’t be drinking, plus we can leave whenever we want this way.”

“If you’re sure…” Taeyong frowns in response, only brightening up when Yuta kisses him on the cheek.

“You two would be gross if you weren’t my best friends.” Doyoung comments, carefully climbing into the back of Yuta’s new tesla. The older man immediately swivels around in his seat to grin at his friend. 

“Don’t get jealous Doie, I’ll kiss you later if you want.”

“No thanks.” Doyoung replies, pulling a face for emphasis. 

\---

The palace (Doyoung hates calling it that, but the building is unfortunately far too opulent to be called anything else) is the very definition of grand, towering over them as they make the short walk from where Yuta had left his car with the valet to the front doors. Doyoung takes a moment to pause and take in the sight of it all, gleaming marble staring back at him, until Taeyong doubles back to grab him by the hand and pull him along. 

“Good evening,” A well-dressed attendant greets them as they enter the foyer, taking the invitations Taeyong offers him with a gloved hand. “The ball is being held in the lower ballroom, please proceed down the hallway before taking your first right turn.”

“That suggests the existence of at least an upper ballroom.” Doyoung mutters to himself, trying to resist the urge to roll his eyes.

Clearly he isn’t quiet enough, as the attendant fixes him with a disgruntled look. 

“We have four, all of which the family are incredibly proud of.”

Doyoung narrows his eyes, opening his mouth to say something snippy in reply, but he’s cut off by Taeyong swiftly looping his arm through his to steer him down the hall. 

“Try not to antagonise anyone while we’re here,” His friend jokes, holding his spare hand out for Yuta to hold as they all walk together. “My mother is pretty good friends with the royal family, and I know she’d hate to lose the connection.”

“Well, I- Wait, _royal family_?” Doyoung chokes.

Taeyong looks at him questioningly. 

“Yes? I mentioned that this ball was being thrown by the king, didn’t I?”

“Who else do you think would live somewhere like this?” Yuta adds on, clearly amused by Doyoung’s confusion.

“I- _I thought you were joking_.” Doyoung wheezes, suddenly seized with the urge to turn back and flee the premises.

“Told you he’d react like this,” Yuta informs Taeyong, letting go of his boyfriend’s hand to move to Doyoung’s other side and take him instead. “We should’ve made sure he understood before we got him out here.”

Taeyong sighs. 

“Doie, it’ll be _fine_. We’re here with you if you feel out of your depth, okay? You don’t even have to speak to anyone if you don’t want to, we’ll do all the talking for you, you can just look pretty and drink all the free champagne.”

Doyoung groans softly, thinking about how much he’d rather be curled up in bed watching netflix right now. As if he, Kim Doyoung, full time linguistics student and part time barista, was going to be in the same space as the literal royal family. Just the thought of it all made him dizzy. 

Even so, he can’t help but squeeze Taeyong’s hand in return, unable to handle the worried look his best friend was giving him. He’s rewarded with a bright smile, which almost makes it all worth it. 

(It was still going to be a long night.)

\---

“So you said your father owns his own publishing company?”

Doyoung freezes, cringing as he takes another sip of his champagne. 

They’d been at the ball for close to an hour now, and despite his best efforts to remain very much in the background, Doyoung had found himself thrust into conversation with a bunch of people whose names he would never remember. 

“Ah, no,” He resists the urge to fidget as he turns back to the woman speaking to him, intimidatingly decked out in an entire jewellers’ worth of diamonds. “I said he _works_ for a publishing company.”

“Oh, so he’s COO, not CEO? Still impressive! Will you take over his role when he retires? I assume you would, being his son.”

“I…” Doyoung fumbles for an answer, taking another drink to give him time to come up with something acceptable. 

His father probably hadn’t ever even met the CEO of the company he works as a copywriter for, let alone worked closely with him. There would be nothing of meaning for Doyoung to take over, not even so little as an office.

He glances around the balcony he’s stood on, trying to find either Taeyong or Yuta in the throng of people that stand around talking or watching the dancing taking place on the main floor of the ballroom below. He hasn’t seen his friends for at least ten minutes now and his anxiety is building, the safety net of having them as backup ripped out from underneath him.

A small burst of noise catches his attention suddenly, a group of young women dressed in a colourful array of ball gowns erupting into whispered giggles as someone passes by them. Curious, Doyoung cranes his neck to see exactly what, or rather, who, is so exciting, but the figure is mostly cast in shadow. All he’s able to make out is that whoever it is is _tall_ , towering over most of the other guests (Doyoung included), and that their mere presence is a talking point amongst anyone they pass by. 

Doyoung, ever one for a mystery, is greatly intrigued. 

“Mr. Kim?” The drawl of his conversation partner’s voice draws his attention back to her and he jolts, having realised he’d completely zoned out. 

“Oh, sorry, I-” He’s cut off by someone’s hand coming to clasp his arm, and when he turns around he sighs with relief to see Yuta standing there.

“Good evening,” The older man, charming as ever, beams at the woman opposite Doyoung. “Sorry to interrupt, but I need to steal Doyoung back again now, if that’s fine with you?”

“Of course,” Doyoung sags a little at the woman’s reply, happy to finally have a chance to escape. “Pass on my goodwill to your father, will you, Mr. Nakamoto? I’m surprised to not see him here.”

Yuta laughs. “My father does hate to miss a good ball, but he also hates to miss any chance to golf even more. I will pass on your regards next time I speak to him - come on Doyoung, let’s go.”

Yuta’s grip is firm on his arm as he steers him away.

“Sorry for leaving you behind, Doie,” His friend smiles at him apologetically. “Taeyong wandered off to find drinks and managed to get lost so I had to track him down, you know what he’s like.”

“It’s okay, I’m just relieved to be away from all that,” Doyoung replies, nudging the older man. “But abandon me again and I’ll go hide in the car until we leave.”

“Noted. I’ll be sure to fend off any of your new admirers.” Yuta smirks, leading him downstairs and outside to where Taeyong waits by a grand looking fountain. 

The other man beams at the pair of them as they approach, flushed cheeks visible even in the low light cast out by the lanterns dotted around the gardens. 

“There you are, Doyoung!” He practically sings, holding his hands out for Doyoung to take. “I was just starting to miss you.”

“I missed you too,” Doyoung smiles in reply, easily recognising that the older man is already well on his way to being tipsy. “Don’t wander off again, yeah?”

“Of course I won’t! We’re all here to have fun, after all.” Taeyong drains the rest of his glass in one go, leaving it on a nearby table to be quickly whisked away by one of the attendants milling around. 

Doyoung watches the way Yuta purses his lips, clearly amused by his boyfriend’s antics even though they all know it’ll end in disaster. 

“Come on, let’s get another drink and go dance.”

“Another drink?” Yuta repeats, at the same time that Doyoung frowns, hesitant. 

His friend must notice, as there’s a gentle touch to his shoulder. 

“I can’t dance,” Doyoung admits quietly, almost shameful. “Not well enough for an occasion like this, at the very least.”

“It’s okay,” Yuta soothes, rubbing at his arm. “We’ll sit and listen to the music instead, no pressure.”

“Yes Doie, it doesn’t matter,” Taeyong insists, squeezing his hands. “We’ll do anything to make you feel comfortable.”

Doyoung smiles softly at both of his friends, filled with a sudden rush of affection for them. 

“You guys are always so good to me.”

An attendant bustles by them suddenly, heading for the opposite end of the garden. Mildly interested, Doyoung watches her approach a small group of people sitting underneath a decorative pavilion. One individual rises to meet her, and Doyoung inhales softly when he realises it’s the mysterious figure from the balcony. 

The lighting is once again not in his favour, only half of the stranger’s face illuminated by a lantern hanging from the pavilion’s roof. However, it’s enough that Doyoung can now make out that the individual is male and wears a dark coloured suit. Doyoung finds himself staring, totally enthralled by the grace with which this stranger moves, so much so that it takes him a few moments to realise that the other man is now turned towards him, eyes trained on Doyoung himself. 

He gasps softly, immediately ducking behind Taeyong to hide. Even so, he’s still able to feel the intensity of the man’s stare, and Doyoung silently curses himself for being so nosy. He should know it never ends well.

“Are you okay?” Taeyong looks round at him, gaze soft with concern. “Did something happen?”

Doyoung shakes his head, knowing he’ll never hear the end of it if his friends know he was caught staring at someone.

“It’s nothing. Shall we head in? I’m thirsty.”

“Let’s, I’m getting cold.” Taeyong nods, already beginning to wander to the double doors leading back into the ballroom. 

Doyoung dares to cast one look behind him, back towards the pavilion. His stranger has disappeared once again, no doubt moved on as well due to the arrival of the cold breeze that seems to be driving most guests back inside the palace. Doyoung sighs softly to himself, feeling strangely disappointed as he follows his friends up the garden steps. 

Inside, Yuta finds them a loveseat that fits all three of them, the couple squeezing Doyoung between them so they can both whisper gossip in his ears. 

“You see that man over there?” Yuta mutters to his companions.

Doyoung tries to follow his friend’s gaze, frowning when he can’t make out who he’s referring to.

“Which one? There’s a lot of men here."

“That one, in the silver brocade suit.”

“Completely tacky by the way,” Taeyong wrinkles his nose at the offending fabric. “I wouldn’t be caught dead wearing that to a fundraiser, let alone a ball thrown by the royal family.”

Doyoung fiddles awkwardly with one of his cufflinks, the politics of formal dress lost on him. He would’ve assumed this man’s suit was completely fine, it looked fancy enough to him, but clearly he was clueless. 

“Yes, that too,” Yuta shoots his boyfriend a mild glare for interrupting him, trying to resist the pout that Taeyong throws at him in return. “Anyway, I’m surprised he was even invited, last I heard he’d been caught trying to implicate the crown prince in one of his schemes.”

“Crown prince?” Doyoung finds his interest suddenly piqued. 

“Yeah, the royal family has two sons, Youngho and Minhyung.” Yuta informs him, checking the names off of his fingers. “Youngho is the eldest, and is generally known for being a bit of a bleeding heart. Smart too though, since he apparently knew not to get involved with this guy.”

“Must’ve wrangled an invite somehow.” Taeyong comments, rolling his eyes. “I wouldn’t have let him in.”

Doyoung remains quiet as the couple banter back and forth, inexplicably hung up on the idea of there being a crown prince. 

_Youngho_ , he thinks to himself. It definitely sounds like a princely enough name, and he finds himself wondering if Youngho was somewhere here among the crowds in the palace tonight, if he’d passed by Doyoung and he’d had no idea. 

Earlier, during a conversation about linguistics with a man who’d turned out to be one of the king’s advisors, he’d learnt that the royal family typically did not actually attend these sorts of affairs, choosing instead to let their higher ranked staff handle things. This had surprised Doyoung - he couldn’t imagine letting people wander around his house without being there at least to greet them, but maybe it was a status thing he would never understand. As such, it was likely that Youngho was somewhere upstairs, on the floors closed to the ball guests. 

_A shame really_ , he thinks to himself. He’d have quite liked to have met a prince, even just for the experience. 

At some point Taeyong procures his fourth glass of champagne, predictably drooping after drinking about half of it. Yuta lets out a fond sigh as his boyfriend flops over Doyoung’s lap towards him, whining incoherently as he tries to grab onto someone’s hand for stability. 

“I need to start stopping him from drinking so much when we’re out,” Yuta comments, standing up and hauling Taeyong up with him. “I’m gonna take him back outside for some air, you coming?”

“Of course,” Doyoung replies, rising immediately and helping Yuta to hold a limp Taeyong up. “Should we-”

A quiet nagging sensation suddenly takes over his brain, making him lose his train of thought halfway through his sentence. He frowns to himself, a strange feeling of anxiety settling over his body, telling him that if he doesn’t listen to his instincts immediately, he’ll regret it for the rest of his life. Eyebrows knitted together in concern, Doyoung turns towards the large ornate doors that lead out of the ballroom and back into the large hallway.

And he does so just in time to see an increasingly familiar figure disappear around a corner. 

Doyoung inhales softly, anticipation thrumming in his veins. He feels as though the rich embroidery of the hallway runner beckons to him, enticing him to follow it along to what surely is his destiny waiting for him around that corner. 

“Doie?” Yuta questions, looking between the doors and his friend quizzically. “Is something going on that I missed?”

“Ah… Maybe?” Doyoung replies, momentarily unsure of himself. He turns back to Yuta, trying to keep his face blank as possible. “Can you handle Yong on his own? I’ll catch up with you both soon, I promise.”

There’s an indecipherable glimmer in Yuta’s eyes as he stares levelly back at Doyoung, clearly reading something in the younger man’s expression that Doyoung isn’t privy to himself.

“Sure,” His friend answers, finally. “Keep an eye on your phone so I know where you are. We’ll head out at midnight at the latest, yeah?” 

“Of course, thank you Yuta.” He turns to hurry towards the doorway, skirting around the main dance floor and snagging another glass of champagne from an abandoned serving tray as he heads out into the hallway.

He glances at the time on his phone as he does so - it’s a little before 10pm, he notes, leaving him a good couple hours to work with. More than enough time, he convinces himself. He can do this, easy. 

\---

When Doyoung manages to make his way back out into the hallway, the object of his fascination is nowhere to be seen. 

He frowns to himself, looking around as if the stranger could be hiding next to the waist-high floor vase tucked into the corner, or behind the large ornate tapestry hanging on the wall opposite Doyoung. It’s fruitless, of course, the hallway is completely deserted. When it's clear he’s alone he sets off again, deciding to see if the rooms left open to guests will offer him any further success. 

He ducks in and out of several. 

First is a study crammed with older men where he narrowly avoids being dragged into a debate about tax rebates, then he finds a series of smaller rooms filled with plush seating where more people lounge about, drinking and talking leisurely. He’s momentarily distracted by the solarium, curtains still thrown back to show off the way the stars and moonlight shines through the multicoloured glass of the windows, but he forces himself to move on.

Doyoung feels his shoulders slump in defeat as he reaches the last door he can see that’s open. It’s almost eerily quiet at this end of the hall, far away enough from the main reception rooms of the palace that there’s no music or chatter, just the sound of Doyoung’s breathing and his pulse thrumming in his ears.

Stepping through the doorway, he can’t help but gasp as he finds himself in a room that wouldn’t look out of place in a museum. 

Displays installed at regular intervals across the floor house countless numbers of vases, sculptures, and other precious things Doyoung can’t quite make out yet. The far wall is completely taken up by a floor to ceiling case, holding several mannequins clothed in full outfits that are probably worth more than his entire yearly tuition. Paintings and other various wall hangings fill in the rest of the surrounding wall space, portraits and landscapes and wood carvings stretching as far as the eye can see.

Doyoung lets out a breath he wasn’t aware he’d been holding, feeling awestruck, and almost as if he were intruding on the space. Which is ridiculous, he admonishes himself - the door would have been locked if no-one was allowed in. Him being here is perfectly allowed, even if the slight creak of the floorboards as he makes his way into the room proper makes him want to flee back to his friends.

However, his apprehension is quickly replaced with intrigue, and he begins to slowly make his way around the room, sipping his champagne as he studies each individual piece. It becomes apparent that these objects are intended to tell the history of the royal family, traced back centuries if Doyoung is reading the information cards correctly. 

It’s interesting enough, he thinks to himself thinking as he looks around each display, pausing every now and then to read an inscription on a sword, or admire a particularly fine looking piece of jewellery. But he quickly finds it becomes repetitive. 

Slightly bored, he instead wanders over to the wall that hosts the majority of the paintings. He’s never really been into art enough to know the nuances - while Taeyong could talk his ear off for hours about different artists and their respective movements, the importance of colour theories and how much significance a brush stroke could add to a piece, Doyoung just liked whatever was pretty. And there are certainly some pretty pieces in front of him now, numerous detailed landscapes and portraits so perfect they could be photographs. 

But, he finds his attention drawn to a large painting positioned just off-centre, a cacophony of bright colours and chaotic lines that all together form what Doyoung sees as a big mess. He frowns, tilting his head a little as he tries to make sense of the piece. 

“It’s an original Pollock,” A voice somewhere behind him informs him. “The only copy in the world, in fact.”

Doyoung, too busy following a jagged line with his eyes in an attempt to see if it leads anywhere, wrinkles his nose. 

“It’s ugly, no wonder there’s only one.” He mutters, taking a sip of his drink. 

There’s laughter behind him, and that is what finally makes him register that he’s no longer alone. Intrigued, he turns around to face the figure standing in the doorway, and freezes when he realises that his mysterious stranger is finally _here_ , right in front of him. Doyoung nearly drops his glass in surprise.

The few glimpses he’d managed to steal hadn’t prepared him for just how _handsome_ the other man was, so much so that it was almost a struggle for Doyoung to even look at him. 

He’s tall, at least half a head taller than Doyoung was himself, and _broad_ , filling out every inch of what he now realises is a rich velvet suit, coloured the deepest purple. His face looks as though it were carved from marble, high cheekbones and sharp jawline at odds with the gentleness of his brown eyes. Doyoung suddenly feels very small in his gifted suit and borrowed shoes, shrinking away from the other man as if he’ll be able to tell that Doyoung doesn’t belong here.

The man steps into the room, dress shoes squeaking softly against the polished floor. Doyoung finds himself frozen to the spot as his stranger approaches him, stopping just short of being within arm’s reach. He’s even more attractive up close, if that’s even possible, his mere presence enough to leave Doyoung breathless. 

“Not a fan of modern art?” The man asks him, lips quirked up in a smile. 

“N-Not really,” Doyoung manages to stammer out, amazed he even still has the cognitive ability to speak. “I-I’m not much into art in general.”

“That’s fair, it can be awfully dull and dreary, after all.” 

Doyoung nods along with the man’s words, finding himself far too lost in the warmth of his eyes. Eyes that seem to sparkle even in the low light of the room, like the jewels that glitter in the display case that sits across from them now. Doyoung feels like he’s drowning, so caught up in the way he feels just so breathless that it takes him a few moments to realise that that amused glimmer is aimed at _him_ , his companion clearly waiting for some kind of response. 

“S-Sorry!” He tries to feign casualness, but the way his voice catches in his throat betrays him. “I-I missed that, what did you say?”

“It’s perfectly fine,” The man replies. “I just asked for your name.”

“O-Oh! I’m Doyoung. Kim Doyoung.”

“Kim Doyoung...” 

Doyoung bites his lip, a shiver chasing down his spine at just how nice his name sounds in the other man’s voice. He watches as the man tilts his head, an apologetic frown taking over his features. 

“I’m so sorry, I don’t recognise your name.”

“You shouldn’t,” Doyoung cuts in. “I mean- It’s fine, I’m no-one special, don’t worry.”

The man only frowns more at his reply, eyebrows knitted together in an expression that shouldn’t be attractive, but is. 

“I disagree, I think you’re very special, Doyoung,” He responds, undeterred by the violent blush that immediately flares across Doyoung’s face. He extends a hand towards the smaller man. “I’m Johnny, by the way.”

“Johnny…” Doyoung repeats, savouring the word as he holds his own hand out in return.

Johnny’s skin is warm, he notes when the taller man takes hold of his hand. Warm, and irresistibly soft, and Doyoung prays that his own isn’t too roughened up from endless shifts at the coffee shop. He expects Johnny to shake his hand - after all, that’s how he’d been greeting everyone introduced to him by Taeyong and Yuta throughout the evening. 

So he’s beyond surprised when, instead, the other man curls his fingers around his own, leaning down to press a brief kiss to the back of Doyoung’s hand. Doyoung can’t help but let out a surprised gasp, flushed cheeks turning even redder until he’s sure he might be glowing. Johnny just smiles at him in return. 

“A pleasure to meet you, Doyoung,” He murmurs, keeping hold of the other man’s hand. “Would you do me the further pleasure of accompanying me for the rest of the evening?”

Doyoung frowns as he processes Johnny’s words.

“M-Me? Why me?”

“Why not?” 

“I- There’s so many other people you could choose from!” 

“And?” Johnny asks, squeezing his hand. “They’re not you, Doyoung.”

“I…” Doyoung sighs softly, looking at a spot on the floor. “You don’t know that, though. You don’t know anything about me, I- I’m nothing special.”

A sudden touch to his cheek startles him, and he looks up at Johnny with wide eyes. The other man doesn’t pull away, instead moving to cup his cheek further so Doyoung has no choice but to meet his gaze.

“Why don’t I be the judge of that?” He murmurs. 

And, against all his better judgement, Doyoung nods by way of reply.

\---

“Why are they staring?” Doyoung mumbles as he draws himself closer to Johnny, like his presence could shield them both from the curious glances the other guests kept throwing their way.

He’s not sure how long had passed since he’d found himself by the other man’s side. It could have been mere minutes, it could have been hours, maybe it had even been days since he’d first set foot into this ballroom. Time seemed to work of its own volition here. But, perhaps that was all down to Johnny. 

Cheesy though it may be, Doyoung had never met a man like the one sat beside him right now. Johnny was just so… _attentive_ might be the best word to describe him, the other man drinking in what little information Doyoung did divulge about himself like he needed it to survive. So far, all Johnny knew of his life was his name, age, and that he attended university, but he treated Doyoung like he was the most interesting person in the world.

It was… nice. It was something that Doyoung wasn’t used to, and he would be lying if he said he wasn’t enjoying it.

Even if Johnny also seemed determined to make him as flustered as possible at any given opportunity. 

“Maybe they can’t believe how beautiful you are.” Johnny replies without hesitation, grinning when Doyoung whines in response. 

“ _Stop that_.”

“Stop what?”

“Lying to me!” Doyoung hisses, fixing the taller man with the best glare he can muster with how embarrassed he is.

Johnny looks unfazed, instead leaning down so he can dip his head close to Doyoung’s ear.

“You’re accusing me of lying to you? You wound me, Doyoung.”

Doyoung shivers, unsure if it’s caused by the way other man draws the syllables of his name out as he whispers them to him, or by the way his breath ghosts over the most sensitive part of Doyoung’s neck. As much as he wants to, he forces himself to resist the urge to flinch away, lest he offend Johnny. He was painfully aware that he could slip up at any moment, and ruin this whole evening for himself. 

“You’re going to give me a heart attack.” He mumbles petulantly. 

“Oh? Well, we can’t have that now, can we?” 

Doyoung watches, confused as Johnny pulls away, standing up from the loveseat they’d been tucked away in together. His bewilderment only grows as the man extends a hand towards him once again.

“Care to dance?”

“Oh- _gods_ no,” Doyoung shakes his head vehemently to support his reply. “I’m terrible, I- I’d make a fool of us both.”

“Nonsense,” Johnny smiles, momentarily distracting Doyoung from his horror. “No-one is that bad a dancer.”

“You haven’t seen _me_ dance.”

“You say that, but how can I judge you unless you dance with me now?” 

_He does have a point there_ , Doyoung thinks to himself. 

It would be easy for him to continue to refuse. 

While he knows little about the man in front of him, Doyoung doubts that Johnny would ever truly try and force him into doing something he didn’t want to do. As much as it would put a dampener on their evening, the other man would probably be quick to just take his rejection in his stride. However, he realises that it’s equally as easy to lose himself in the hopeful way that Johnny looks at him, making his resolve crumble more with each second that drags by. 

In the end, it’s entirely too easy for Doyoung to let Johnny take his hand, following obediently as the other man pulls him to his feet and leads them both to the dance floor.

Johnny’s hand is warm when he comes to rest it on Doyoung’s waist, the heat of his skin leaching through the thin material of his dress shirt. He traces circles over the delicate silk with his thumb, seeming to savour the way Doyoung trembles beneath his touch.

“Relax,” He murmurs to the smaller man, directing him until Doyoung’s fingers curl into the velvet of his own jacket. “I’ll do all the work, you just follow and enjoy yourself.”

“Easy for you to say,” Doyoung mumbles, more to himself than anything else, biting his lip when he hears the chuckle it earns him from his companion. “You’re probably good at this.”

“So trust me to take care of you.” Is the only reply he receives.

So Doyoung does. 

And, to his surprise, he finds himself enjoying the way Johnny steers them so effortlessly around the dance floor, weaving them in and out of the other couples surrounding them. People stare at them perhaps even more now than they had before, their eyes burning into Doyoung’s back as they pass. But, he realises it’s not hard to ignore them with the way that Johnny looks down at him, as though he was the only other person in the room. 

“See?” The other man murmurs to him, only just audible over the music. “You’re a natural.”

“Only because you’re with me.” Doyoung ducks his head.

“And how lucky does that make me?”

Doyoung scoffs.

“You’re ridiculous.” He can’t help but laugh, unable to resist returning the grin that Johnny beams at him as he leads them both into the next song. 

“Shall we get some fresh air?” Johnny asks later when they finally draw to a stop, bowing to one another before they leave the dance floor. 

Well on the way to overheating in his suit, Doyoung nods gratefully at the suggestion.

To his surprise (and vague distress), Johnny takes his hand once again as they make their way back out into the gardens, interlocking their fingers together like it were the most casual thing in the world. Doyoung also tries to treat it as such, but the way his breath hitches gives him away. Thankfully, Johnny’s only recognition of his reaction is a gentle squeeze of his hand.

It’s colder now than it was the last time he found himself out in the gardens, Doyoung shivering in the late evening breeze as they head towards the veranda he’d seen Johnny under earlier. He discreetly tries to tuck himself closer to his companion in an attempt to fight off the chill, but he mustn’t be as subtle as he’d hoped, as he quickly finds himself pulled into the warmth of the other man’s embrace.

“Better?” Johnny asks, his voice rumbling deep in his chest beneath Doyoung’s fingertips. 

“M-Much, thank y-you.” Doyoung manages to stammer out, finding himself unable to meet the other man’s eyes thanks to their new, sudden proximity.

Seconds tick by, and Doyoung comes to realise that Johnny has yet to tear his gaze away from his face. He frowns, finally looking up at the taller man, trying his hardest to silently decipher what emotion it is that shines in his eyes. 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” He dares ask. 

Johnny doesn’t answer his question right away. Instead he hums softly, occupied with brushing Doyoung’s hair away from where it had fallen into his eyes, letting the barest of touches skim over the younger man’s skin.

“For all your mystery, Doyoung, you really are lovely.” He finally replies.

Doyoung bites his lip, turning his head away in a bid to hide the blush that creeps over his face.

“I-”

“Don’t try to convince me otherwise,” Johnny smirks as he leans in closer to Doyoung’s face, cupping his cheek to hold him still. “I’m afraid I’ve already made my mind up.”

Doyoung rolls his eyes, even as he leans into the comfort of the other man’s touch. He lets his eyes roam freely over Johnny’s face, taking in each and every little detail so he can commit them all to memory. For all he knows, this is nothing but a dream - a wonderful dream that will disappear the second he wakes up to find himself back in his tiny apartment, curled up in bed alone. 

“Doyoung.” Johnny’s voice pulls him out of his thoughts.

“Mmm?” He manages to reply, a little too dazed for anything more coherent.

“May I kiss you?”

Doyoung knows deep down that he should refuse. Johnny is - well, he’s not exactly sure who the other man is, or what he gets up to outside of this new magical world of palaces and princes and royal balls, but no doubt it’s something Doyoung could never hope to come close to achieving himself. But, as Johnny leans in towards him ever so slowly, Doyoung can’t help but think back on Taeyong’s words from that night at the bar. 

_You need to live a little_.

 _Well,_ he thinks to himself with a smile. _Surely kissing a stranger at a ball counts as living a little_. And with that he closes the last bit of distance between himself and the man holding him. 

Johnny’s lips are warm against his. Warm, and a little bit sweetened by the champagne they’d been drinking all night. 

Doyoung thinks he could get drunk off of the feeling he gets as the other man tilts his head to deepen the kiss, warming him all the way to his fingertips that clutch desperately at Johnny’s jacket. He feels curiously light, as though he would be able to float all the way up to the sky, to touch every star that glitters above them if it weren’t for Johnny’s arms anchoring him to the earth. 

It’s perfect, and Doyoung can hardly believe it’s real.

As they part, Johnny comes to rest his forehead against his, gaze so tender as he smiles down at Doyoung that the younger man struggles to find his breath. Doyoung thinks he could happily spend the rest of his life here, with nothing but the two of them and the silent moon high in the sky above. 

That is, until his phone vibrating in his pocket catches their attention.

“Is something wrong?” Johnny asks, as Doyoung pulls away from him to check his notifications.

**[23:53] yuta:**

hey, are you ready to go?

Doyoung’s heart sinks at the sight of the message - and it’s as if the tiny black letters bring reality fully crashing back to him. 

“I-” He chokes out. “I have to go.”

What is he doing here? Exactly who does he think he is, spending the evening with someone like Johnny? The other man is probably a lord, or someone deserving of equally lofty a title. Someone that really shouldn’t be kissing a student that barely made rent last month. The sweetness in Doyoung’s mouth left over from the champagne suddenly turns sour, making his stomach turn. 

“Go?” Johnny frowns at him, trying to catch hold of Doyoung’s hand as he pulls away. “But it’s so early, can’t you stay with me just a little longer?”

“No,” Doyoung shakes his head adamantly, nearly tripping over his own feet as he rushes to leave the veranda. “No, I- I’m sorry, I have to go - I don’t belong here.”

“Belong here? Doyoung- _Doyoung!_ ” 

Doyoung tries hard to ignore the other man’s voice as he runs through the gardens and back up into the ballroom, keeping his head bowed as he ducks through the crowd of people swarming around the dance floor. The relief he feels when he finally makes it back out of the front doors is almost overwhelming, and he slows, his legs wobbling as he walks back down the stairs.

When he reaches the bottom step, he allows himself to pause for a moment, looking back over his shoulder at the hallway behind him. For a moment, Doyoung allows himself to entertain the idea that Johnny is stuck somewhere back in the throng of people, trying his best to chase after wherever he thinks Doyoung might have disappeared off to. 

He laughs to himself - he doubts it’s true, but he can certainly let himself dream. 

“There you are.” Yuta smiles when he spots Doyoung approaching, straightening up where he’d been leant against the side of his car. “I was wondering if you’d got my message.”

“I… I did.” Doyoung’s shoulders sag as he comes to stand next to his friend. “Sorry I didn’t reply, I was- distracted.”

“It’s fine,” Yuta tilts his head as he looks at him. “Are you okay? You look, well, a little sad.”

“I’m fine,” Doyoung tries his best to force a smile, though he knows it's strained. “Just tired. Can we head home?”

For a moment, Yuta doesn’t reply, his friend instead narrowing his eyes as he quietly studies his face. Doyoung tries to arrange his expression into something neutral, but it’s a struggle with how he feels like he could easily cry if prodded any further. Thankfully, Yuta seems to pick up on his mood, as he nods before unlocking the car. 

“Sure,” He replies, holding the door open for him. “We’ll get something to eat when we get in, anything you want, yeah?”

Doyoung nods as he slides into the car, scoffing fondly at the sight of Taeyong curled up asleep in the far seat. He buckles himself in, leaning over to take his friend’s hand in his own, wanting the comfort that tangling their fingers together always brings him.

“Sounds good to me.” He mumbles.

He turns to look at the palace through the tinted window one last time while he waits for Yuta to settle into the driver’s seat. For all that the building had seemed intimidating when they’d first arrived that evening, now the golden glow of the surrounding lanterns serve to turn it into something straight out of a fairytale. A fairytale that has no role in mind for someone like Doyoung.

“Did you find what you were looking for earlier, by the way?” Yuta asks over the noise of the engine as he finally starts the car. 

If Doyoung squints, he’s sure he can just about make out the familiar silhouette of someone standing on the stairs leading to the palace front doors. He turns around before he can let himself dare to hope that it might be Johnny looking for him.

“No,” He answers his friend, finally. “No, I did not.”

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so much for reading if you got this far - comments, kudos and bookmarks are always so appreciated ❤
> 
> i'm a little busy for the next couple of weeks so i won't be able to work on this for a while, but i hope to have the next chapter up by mid to late feburary! i hope you look forward to the next installment of doyoung and his adventures.
> 
> you can find me at:  
> cc: [suhnbeams](https://curiouscat.me/suhnbeams)  
> twt: [suhnbeams](https://twitter.com/suhnbeams)


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